


Too close for comfort.

by orphan_account



Series: Valong's commissions [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, mentions of interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their last meeting Starscream is fighting to tip the balance of power back into his favour, mostly at Windblade's expense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too close for comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> **This is a commissioned piece for[jl1970](http://jl1970.tumblr.com/) therefore, please do not continue or edit in anyway please, thanks**
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> Continuation of [The Way Things Work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581179)

The lights flickered and soon after the went out entirely. Windblade spent a long moment at her desk scowling into the blackness surrounding her, wondering if she’d be made to get up again until, distantly, she heard the hum of the generator restarting and as it grew in volume the lights illuminated.

            In a tense moment, Windblade waited, half curled over some reports and eyes darting between the ceiling lamps interspersed about the room. The moment she thought t was safe, Windblade turned back to her work and almost immediately the process repeated.

            Her snarl of frustration was heard in the darkness. This was becoming more of a nuisance every day. Especially since she’d taken drastic measure to see the problem fixed. A shiver and gnaw of restive feeling pulled at her tanks, caused by her own doings.

            As much as the intermittent power outages irked her and, most of all, the residents of Metroplex, Windblade was ashamed to admit that she’d been avoiding the problem, or at least, procrastinating its solution. But this was the fifth time in an hour the latest generators they’d refurbished had failed and if she didn’t take action soon the people dependant on her would demand it.

            But… she - didn’t - want - to…

            “Uhhfff.” She released the most frustrated sound. Torn between wallowing in unacceptable conditions and working up the gall to speak to _him_. Starscream. Just thinking of being near him again was  too much to stomach but being selfish wasn’t in Windblade’s nature. Even though it was tempting…

            Slowly, showing extreme reluctance, Windblade pulled herself from behind her desk and the lights brightened again.

            Maybe this was the last time, maybe the problem had fixed itself and she could sit back down…

            Doubtful. Sliding back into her comfy seat would be too easy. With heavy feet, Windblade trudged into the corridor, looking left she saw Chromia approaching by chance. The determination on her face brought closer with each flicker of the lights above. Windblade offered her a weak smile.

            Chromia stopped, arms crossing over her chest.

            “We gunna do something about this?” It sounded like she expected Windblade to dodge her and looked genuinely surprised when Windblade agreed for once although she didn't remark on it.

            They travelled to Iacon and the journey was quiet. Chromia tried, on occasion, to chat, most of it was work related but the coil of tension spiralling larger in Windblade’s chest kept cutting her off.

            “You alright?” Chromia was frowning, again Windblade had gotten distracted by something halfway through a sentence.

            “Hmmm, yeah, uh fine.” Obviously she was thinking about something more important than chatting. Chromia just couldn’t tell what. She guessed it was probably the stress of fixing Metroplex and until that issue was resolved any attempt to talk was just doomed to fall flat.

            They found Starscream at a construction site. Definitely not getting his hands dirty. When they approached he turned his back on them with a sharpness that suggested he’d obviously seen them. Now he was just being rude.

            “Typical.” Chromia scoffed. Windblade steadied her in a polite way,

            “I’ll see to this.” She said, neither looking at Chromia or at her intended target. Chromia muttered something, the words ‘aft hole’ still audible. She’d never win awards for diplomacy but Windblade entirely agreed with Chromia's opinions.

            Leaving Chromia alone, Windblade weaved through the construction site. Above her swung huge iron beams and mech’s crumpled down into heavy-duty alt modes rolled by on fat treads.

            “Starscream.” His name caught in her throat. Windblade wished she could say she was just out of breath from clambering up the mound of dredged up rubble but it was more than that. The heat of anticipation made her palms damp and dragging her hands over beams and warped metal parts didn’t wipe it away as she transcended Starscream’s pedestal.

            Of course he had to be at the top. He needed to be seen, needed to be heard. The afternoon sun glanced off his plating and bounced directly into her face.

            “Starscream!” She tried again, hand shielding her optics from the glare of white sun surrounding him like a halo, “A word.”

            Finally she had his attention. Although at first he looked dismissive of her, hauling herself up the last of the mountainous remains of concrete foundations eventually brought him closer. Watching but not helping.

            Windblade had to help herself up.  

            Starscream still stood above her, his face caught in shadows but, as Windblade found her footing, his smirk grew.

            “Can I help you?” He asked too late. It was the tone of his voice that crawled under her plating like an insect. Windblade brushed off the dust gathered from her climb.

            “As a matter of fact, you can.” She looked up with determination and he saw through it. “We had a deal.”

            Taking a step closer pushed Windblade back one, her wings stooping and guard rising to the threat.

            “Refresh my memory.” He was so smug, so coy, it made her ill inside. This wasn’t something she wanted to dissect in front of him. Just remembering made her lips quiver and own conscience shun her.

            “I…I did something for you. In return you promised to divert resources to Metroplex. I had your word, in writing, and I’ve received nothing, Starscream. Why?”

            “I guess I’ve had other things on my mind.”

            “No.” Brushing off his lack of concern as part of a bold move to push back at him, Windblade stepped forward, “You’re doing this deliberately you… you’re intentionally delaying our agreement and I know why.” She stood up to him, face pinched with the blight he caused, “You think you can just _use_ me and there won’t be any consequence but that’s not fair and I won’t let it happen. You’re wasting resources on this,” She waved her hand at the shapeless monstrosity growing behind her, “…whatever it is, when you know I have a better use for them. People _depend_ on Metroplex. If you carry on ignoring me like this you’re being deliberately spiteful and it won’t damage me, but you’ll have a lot of people wondering why you’re neglecting them and an angry Titan to contend with.” 

            As if everything she’d just said had passed through him, Starscream gazed over his construction work.

            “Starscream!”

            “Are you done?”

            Just as Windblade started to aggressively flounder for a response Starscream stole all her progress with one smooth step and a tone so sharp it bit her.

            “Listen Cityspeaker! You can kid yourself all you like but we both know what happened between me and you was not a _fair exchange._ You think you can play rough but I’ve been in the game long enough to see your type come and go like flashes in a frying pan.”

            “ _My type?!”_

“The innocent, righteous little creature that thinks they can handle seeing their reputation take a couple hits for the sake of the bigger picture and _still_ pretend to be above every other sleaze bag and gutter mech crawling on their bellies around here. What you did makes you no better than the rest of us. You’re dirty, Windblade. _Filthy_ as I recall. And what you thought you could use to blackmail me I can just as easily twist back on you. Think of how that would look? “The dear, virtuous femme from afar represents the common people by sneaking around and throwing herself at mechs when they’re at their most vulnerable” Do you really think people will warm to you as well as they did after hearing that?”

            What might have sent Windblade reeling failed on account of one slip up. One slim insight through Starscream’s nasty husk into his wounded pride.

            “So that’s your problem.” She shot back, clutching at something akin to an inadvertent revelation. Admittedly shaken but not broken yet Windblade held her ground, “You don’t like it because you think I used you! I caught you showing a side that doesn’t often see the light and _you_ think I took advantage” -

            “ _You did take advantage_!” He squawked, giving Windblade a start, “But…ah, that’s not the point!”

            “The point is, you don’t know what you want and it scares you.”

            “Oh then tell me…” He stalked closer still, sizing up, straightening his wing span, doing everything he could to make himself, bigger, bolder, more daunting. Anything to give him some presence, “What _do_ I want? _You?_ I think I have that already so don’t be so naive! But don’t take it personally, if it’s any consolation; you were a half decent fr”-

            Windblade gave resent and embarrassment a sound, it was shrill and gasping. On instinct she raised her hand. Starscream was one step ahead, catching her wrist before her mood could escalate.

            “Temper, temper.” He tutted when Windblade fought back.

            “Is there a problem here?” Chromia stood a little to the side, engulfed in the tension but showing no signs of being affected by it. She was peevish and her recent observations provided her with evidence to conclude _why_ Windblade had slumped into such a dejected mood recently.

            She stood back and fixed Starscream with a threatening look and it worked.

            It wasn’t that Starscream was _intimidated_ by Chromia, he was just wary of the abundance of construction workers. Too many voices to control, the fall out wasn’t worth the fight so he released Windblade. Impressing his affect on her with a firm squeeze then threw her hand away.

            “Nothing worth worrying your fenders about,” He said loudly, stepping back to a safe distance, “Go on, get out of here, you’ve said your piece.”

            Windblade weakened under both their scrutiny. Very aware that Chromia was watching her lose to Starscream.

            “Unless you want your _body guard_ here to listen to the rest of our little negotiation? Things might get graphic.”

            “You’re despicable.”

            “Sticks and stones.” Starscream smirked. Leaning in again, so Chromia can see the familiarity, how Windblade’s hands hover and how close she’s willing to let him get, “Runaway. Just like you did the last time.”

            It wasn’t running, Windblade told herself, as she abided Starscream’s words and walked toward Chromia, helm lifted, still looking proud and determined at the back, but the quivers of friction worried her face plates.

            “Let’s go. I’ll get him next time.”

            “Pfft, next time?” Beside Windblade, Chromia crumpled into her alt form and rolled down the uneven mount. Shortly into the return journey to Metroplex an open comm. link extended between them. It was  filled by silence, with only the presence of each other to be felt on either end. Until the repetitive static backlash got on Chromia’s nerves and ,to Windblade’s dismay, she broke the silence in the worst way imaginable.

            “What’s going on?” The continued lack of response made the queasy feeling in Chromia’s tanks thicken, “…With Starscream?”

            “Chromia…It’s complicated.”

            “Oh damn.” As if anything else needed to be said. She could be angry if she wasn’t so crestfallen and exasperation turned into a familial sort of pity. Windblade wasn’t ready for politicians, that’s why she had a body guard and it made Chromia wonder when Windblade had slipped and fallen into the devil’s claws without her knowledge. There’d been no warning signs, or dreamy rebellion, one day Windblade was Windblade the next… well, until now Chromia hadn’t been able to understand the change in mood, “Have you…y’know?”

            It was the same itchy static.

            “Unbelievable.”

            “Chromia!” It was an outcry for understand more than offence.

            “Look, it’s not worth getting upset over… I just really hope he was worth it.”

            With nothing to show for it but an aching spark and still no resolution Windblade wished she had a smarter response. Although Chromia hastened to lighten the mood by discussing the nitty-gritty of the encounter Windblade couldn’t commit and returned to the emergency - powered halls of Metroplex in a far worse mood.

            And the day was hardly done yet.

            They arrived to a welcome comity. Masses of Cybertronians flocking to the outside of Metroplex’s great build.

            “What’s all this?” Chromia rolled to a halt and transformed. Windblade unfolded above her then landed. They watched the crowd trudging toward them, many bearing boxes and sacks stuffed with bent trickiest slung over their shoulders. They continued down the trail leading past Chromia and Windblade and veering off into the city.

            The action Windblade feared was upon her.

            “Burst water main, no lights, we’ve had enough!” One mech snapped, his wonky teeth failing to meet, “There’re hotels pitched up in the city, we’ll have better luck there. You wanna get talkin’ to the big guy and fix ‘im before he rusts through.”

            A few others looked sorely at Windblade as they passed, others just seemed sorry.

            They marched like ants and made Chromia and Windblade wait for their flow to ebb before it was possible to squeeze into the complex.

            True enough the corridors were dark, and water swilled round their ankles in the lower parts of the great citadel. Chromia tried to be of some comfort, but her efforts couldn’t break through the cheerless shell gathered round Windblade’s spirits.

            Having failed to secure indefinite support there was no way her problems would be fixed with the promptness she’d hoped for. The burden fell heavily on her shoulders and stayed there, bending her spine to the enormity of her task.

            It seemed their lost residents were right. Metroplex wasn’t liveable anymore. Windblade and Chromia made their beds into two separate rooms midway up an impresses skyscraper erected by Starscream himself.

            They _had_ tried to find an alternative but accommodation was limited after the most recent war on Cybertron left most competitors in ruins. At least from the height and vantage deck, Windblade could step out that night and keep an eye on Metroplex from a distance. The flaring of his biolights spontaneously light up the horizon and shone through the glass and shutters of her bedroom. The throb of orange light reminded her of a spark pulse and soothed her enough to creep onto the recharge plato and begin plugging into the variety of adaptors.

            She didn’t remember resting her helm but soon enough she started drowning in the phantom feel of hands rubbing across her body, the touch hot and needy, burning into her plating. It was frantic and heady, too wrong to be wonderful and still so overcoming that Windblade gave herself up without a fight.

            It had been late, very late. Similar to tonight Windblade had been resting on her berth when she heard a summons on the door. The control outside was pressed once and buzzed once, then the tone was rapidly repeated as whoever was on the other side got impatient.

            Alarmed, and fearing the worst, because it was unusual to be personally called this late, Windblade disentangled herself from the recharge cables wrapped round her legs and middle and hurried up to the door. Feet dragging even though she was in a rush. Her hand slapped the door control. The broad slab of dark metal opened creaking and hissing. A quick blink snapped away the bleariness of her eyes and though she wanted to scowl all she could manage was to gape at Starscream, who stood over the aperture.

            Not smiling. Plating cracked and chipped, royal red faded by hard work and dust.

            Something about his face surprised her. An initial somber look. Was it loneliness? Anyway it was quickly replaced by something familiar; even if the acrimonious shield was just wafer thin: forced and incomplete. His lips twitched.

            To counter obvious infirmity, Starscream said something lame, a tacky line - one from his arsenal of showboating. Pushed it off his tongue and successfully made Windblade cross. Arms stretched out, she blocked the doorway but he still slipped into her personal space, making a comfortable place for himself above her leering down, smug and infuriating. Starscream called her floundering cute. When she asked _why_ he began pushing her back into the bedroom, hands pressing on her hips without consent but undeterred. Starscream replied smoothly,            

_“You should know, you set the standard. Isn’t this how it works?”_

            A few more sweet lines and Windblade was losing her nerve, her senses too full of him, overpowered by desires all his but they were infectious. Spark pulse quickened. If she hurried, if she tried hard, she could still say no but then…

            “ _Please, Windblade.”_ The façade fell away like silk curtains, taking away her edginess, and Starscream exposed his sincerity. Risking a piece of himself to give away - to her. It was enough to make Windblade pity him. Enough to make her accept him.

            Backed onto the berth, cornered by _him._ Where was the fear she should’ve been feeling? It wasn’t there when she pulled back the door, her spark had grown, and it wasn’t here now, when she was whimpering into his kiss. Starscream pulled and pushed, so sure of himself and his abilities but the weakness of his EM fields mirrored the infirmity of their first encounter.

            Though his demands were selfish; when he wrapped Windblade’s arms round his torso and told her to squeeze and _please, please, please;_ she found him irresistible. Twisting in her arms, he was pleading with her. Yearning for more contact, more touch and hold and _craved_ closeness. Surging into her and it still wasn’t enough to keep the cold from creeping between them.

            “ _Starscream_.” He’d taken her breath along with all her sense. Above her, she only saw his smile; that same damned smile, knowing, satisfied and, for the first time, all for her.

            “ _You called me Lord last time_.” Kissing down her jaw made Windblade’s optics flutter.

            No, she shouldn’t… she shouldn’t indulge…she shouldn’t….she woke up.

            Dazed, flushed, fingers digging into her palms. Stretched on her back in a dark, unfamiliar room wondering if the time between her dreamy fantasy and the real thing had really taken place.            

            Then the amber of Metroplex’s biolights filled the room in thick stripes and Windblade exhaled. The fantasy fading to nothing, just another confusing pain in her chest.

            If she’d known the backlash would be this _personal_ she’d never have assumed to be so bold. Trying to best Starscream was a mistake. _No, Chromia he was not worth **this**_ **.** Endless remorse and the dirt he showered her in was a permanent blemish on her self-esteem.

            But, sickeningly, she hoped, she longed to have all that raw feeling rapidly moving in her arms again. Wrapped up in just pleasure.

            How could one person make her feel so much? How had she let herself be fooled into thinking she was special compared to all the other people he’d trodden over in the past.

            The dominance she’d stolen off him in their first encounter he’d reestablished in their second. That was all it was. She put her head in her hands. He just wanted to put her in her place. Trick her, show her how easy she was to manipulate. As he’d said, Starscream had been in the game much longer. Nobody liked to be used, Starscream least of all. All he wanted to do was take back his dignity and shatter her own confidence to do so.

            Well it worked. The encounter had dug into her chest, hollowed her out and filled her dirt.

            The lesson she’d remember from now on was never to dare punch above her weight. Chromia told her she was too kind and that should be a good thing but not round here where hardened sparks and world weary souls were the only kinds she’d meet.

            Windblade blamed the war for twisting people and for giving them the nature to continue twisting people to fit their bitter scope of life. All her efforts had come too late, Windblade was tired but could not sleep again. Not if she wanted to save people from their own bitterness.            

            In part, she was afraid of falling into another memory and waking to disappointment.

            It was enough to drive her out of bed. Reasoning that an early start would do her good.

            She took her morning energon onto the balcony. The sun was brimming over the horizon behind Metroplex. It was heavy and blood orange and gold, peeping between heavy strings of cloud and Windblade watched. Trying to keep calm and distracted just while she tried to reconcile herself. Soon enough she was fuelled up and returning to Metroplex. Chromia would know where to look. Yesterday they’d taken stock and assessed what needed to be done. Today, Windblade planned on getting her hands a little greasy and waded through ankle deep sludge in an effort to being repairs.

            She approached the lonely looking fort. It stood in darkness, now it seemed Metroplex’s biolights had faded too. Every little ounce of energy was being preserved.

            At this hour she’d not expected company, and that was perfectly agreeable to her as it limited likely distractions. However, as usual, what Windblade would like and what she inevitably got were two very separate matters.

            As she made her descent she came across the squat figure of Starscream’s lackey, Rattrap, wobbling out of the building. He was occupied by a group of boxes stacked just beyond Metroplex. All of which he was struggled to lift.

            “I hope you’re not stealing from me.” Windblade transformed in midair and landed sharply, giving the little mech a start. The squawk of surprise took him a while to recover from.

            “I wish!” He puffed, hands braced against his knees, “All this slag’s gotta be put upstairs and wit no elevator or nuttin’, ahhh,” He whined so sadly, “It’s takin’ me a while.”

            Coaxing a little more information out of Rattrap didn’t take long. Windblade jetted off again, speeding down corridors, following Rattrap’s directions. He’d made the trip seven times already, he assured her he couldn’t be wrong.

            The corridor she entered was dark, just like all the rest, but the endless black tunnel was broken by one open door and through it, light spilled out.

            With caution, Windblade approached and peered round the doorframe into the reformed office space. The window shutters had been deactivated and warm sunshine reached in.

            There were boxes scattered about the room, the desk was buried under a mountain of trinkets and bubble wrap. A new chair and filing cabinet and a few other office supplies took up space on the floor and there, among it all, was Starscream wrestling a mirror into optimum position for preening.

            “ _What_ are you doing?” Windblade stepped in. The angry prickly feeling of having one’s territory violated biting at her insides. 

            Turning would be too much effort, Starscream tilted his mirror and looked at her reflection instead.

            “Unpacking.”

            She was beginning to suspect Starscream was incapable of giving a straight answer.

            “I meant what are you doing _here_.”

            At last he spun, the broad sweep of his wings catching the sunlight.

            “You invited me remember?”

            “No.”

            “Heh, that doesn’t surprise me, guess you made a lot of pretty promises that night you didn’t intend to keep.”

            “Starscream”-

            “Relax, I’m just making good on our bargain. If I stay here I can keep a closer eye on you, make sure you’re putting my funding to sensible use.”

            “Y-You’re not going to embarrass me?”

            Starscream face creased, he cooed like he’d just been stung. Taking a few steps forward he leaned on his desk and pulled out a decanter of energon.

            “You wound me.” He poured himself a glass. Windblade frowned, waiting for a punch line, a hitch - something more. But Starscream just tipped energon into a glass.

            “Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Windblade gave up waiting.

            “Heh, all this unpacking, it’s thirsty work. I take it you don’t want one?” He fished a second cube out of the heaps of useless junk.

            “No, thank you.”

            “You should learn to pull the stick out your exhaust every now and then.”

            “Not when there are people like you around.”

            Starscream paused and looked into his cube, a shadow overcoming his features.

            “You think so little of me.”

            “Have you given me reason to think anything else?”

            A cringe warped his expression making him appear plain and drawn. Without his smirk he with missing something, different in an incomprehensible way. It nearly fooled Windblade to thinking him sincere. But was still enough to tempt her further into the room.

            She no longer lingered in the doorway. Her legs wobbled and carried her forward. The dense electromagnetism swirling round him had it’s own mass and gravity. It reeled her in like choppy waves leading to a maelstrom.

            “…You and I have these moments, don’t we?”

            “Well they’re a bit more than just moments, Starscream.”

            “Hmm, I know,” A flash of pride and lusty memory crossed his expression, enough to stir Windblade but it vanished soon enough, “But I think they’re better kept as just that. It would be a shame if one of us got hurt because it.” He turned to his energon again. Retreating without moving, settling deeper into himself where she could not see. Windblade wondered how often he'd had this conversation. Distancing himself before anything more than surface tension could take root, raising his battlements the instant a spark of interest flared in front of his gates. 

            “It’s not me you have to worry about.” She knew herself, knew as well as Starscream that she wasn’t built to be a tease, a little experimenting had nearly ripped her apart, she’d never be the one to do the hurting. But perhaps she wouldn’t be the only victim of it. Certainly not the first to come and be flushed out of Starscream world.

            “Oh yes it is.” It was muttered with weight, Starscream pondering the deep meaning in things, but he wouldn’t be seen trifling with such intense matters for long, “Like I told you before.” Head up and smirk re-established, “I know your type. Flashes in the pan, but you leave a whole lot of trouble behind.” Coming from trouble himself.

            “Good thing I have you to chaperone me?”

            “Primus no! I’m just here to watch the fireworks and laugh when all this comes crumbling down around you… I’d say it’s well on his way to dereliction already.”

            Unimpressed, Windblade sneered.

            “You know, you don’t always have to play the narcissist.”

            “History will tell you that I have _extreme_ trouble changing my habits.” The excessive collection of shiny trinkets: crowns, models, cluttering his desk being an example of an ever-present tendency to horde. He’d find a place for it all somewhere… after a short assessment he concluded he may need Rattrap to fetch and instal another shelving unit. “Now be on your way,” He was obsessive over his stockpile of goods and Windblade was interrupting, “I’m busy.”

            Shaking her head, Windblade agreed the best place for her was not in his company for now/

            “I never asked you to change Starscream.” The mix of smugness and concentration dropped off his face, “But if you were ever to consider it. I don’t think it would be a bad idea.”

            Starscream sniffed and hiked up his wings, as always intent on having the last word but for once missing the opportunity. Windblade had gone. Left him to deal with matters of importance but comforted that, with this new arrangement, she’d be able to keep an eye on Starscream as keenly as he’d be undoubtedly watching her.  

           

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


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